Burning Coals
by Atarah Derek
Summary: Rodney learns a tried and true method for neutralizing an enemy, and just in time for Christmas!


**Burning Coals**

**Summary:** Rodney learns a tried and true method for neutralizing an enemy, and just in time for Christmas! This is a Christian fic, so if you don't want to listen to what Pastor Masih has to say, don't read. Dedicated to Gulsher Masih and his daughter Sandul Bibi. Praise God for their recent release!

**Disclaimer:** Only Pastor Rafel Masih is mine. The rest belongs to MGM.

* * *

"This is so not fair!"

"Sorry, Rodney, but that's the name you drew. Look, I didn't want to do this any more than you did."

"Yeah, until you drew Dr. Sanchez's name! Now you're all gung-ho about this whole thing. Lucky you! You get the hot young female scientist. I got the city's biggest jerk!"

"Yeah, well...'tis the season."

Rodney's whining could be heard for several moments before he even came into line of sight. He and Sheppard had been bickering over the Secret Santa gift exchange Elizabeth had organized to promote the camaraderie on Atlantis. Rodney had already been complaining that the whole idea was childish, and in spite of the fact that Elizabeth had told him participation was optional, Sheppard had twisted the scientist's arm—almost literally—to get him to participate (John didn't like the idea of being the only other senior staff member obligated to join the "fun"). Only those participating in the gift exchange would receive gifts from "Santa" themselves, and it was that fact that motivated many in the military to join. Many people began dropping hints to one another, just in case they drew the name of a friend.

Some of the names in the drawing had surprised even Elizabeth. Teyla and Carson were no surprise. Carson was a gift person, and Teyla was all too eager to celebrate her second Christmas with the team. But other names, such as Ronon and even Kavanaugh, had surprised Elizabeth. Perhaps John's powers of persuasion were stronger than she'd realized. Nearly everyone in the city had signed up, and the names had already been drawn. They now had one month to come up with a gift, order, find, or make it, and have it wrapped and ready on Christmas. Of course, traditional gift exchanges between friends were encouraged. But this guaranteed that even some of Atlantis' loners would be made to feel at least somewhat at home, among friends.

At least, that's what Elizabeth hoped. But the complaining of the scientist that was even now heading toward her office told her that this whole thing could prove to be a bigger headache than it was worth.

Elizabeth stood to greet the two men as they entered her office. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

John shrugged. "Rodney's been complaining about the name he drew for the Secret Santa."

"That much I gathered," Elizabeth said, giving Rodney a questioning nod.

"He said he wants to exchange the name he picked with someone else."

"Come on, Elizabeth," Rodney pleaded. "You're in charge of the whole thing. If you won't let me out of it, then at least let me pick a new name."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him. "And why should I do that, when I made the rules perfectly clear before the names were drawn?"

Rodney's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, and how fair is it that he..." he jabbed a finger at Sheppard, "gets Sanchez, while I get stuck with Kavanaugh?"

Elizabeth hid a smile behind her hand. She couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for Rodney, but that didn't mean that she was going to put up with this attitude. "You know, Rodney, when I suggested this gift exchange, you thought it was childish. But now you're the one who seems to be acting pretty childish; whining about the name you drew?"

"I am not whining," Rodney said in his trademark defensive huff. "I'm just saying that we should be given the option of—"

"I am willing to make this one exception to the rules," Elizabeth said, cutting the astrophysicist off, "_if _you can find someone who is willing to trade names."

Rodney gestured in excitement. "Oh...Thank you so much!" He turned to John. "Sheppard, if you just trade me names, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Forget it," Sheppard responded with just a hint of amusement. "I'm happy with the name I drew, and I already know what I'm gonna get her."

"Of course you are," Rodney muttered. "Fine. If you wanna be selfish with the names, then I'll just have to find a friend who's more willing to help me out in the spirit of the holiday."

Sheppard and Elizabeth rolled their eyes and exchanged a look.

"Whatever, Rodney," Sheppard said.

Rodney gave his teammates an indignant look and turned to leave.

* * *

Rodney's search for someone to exchange gift recipients with him went virtually unanswered for the first hour. Zelenka turned him down flat, well aware that if McKay wanted to trade Secret Santa names, then whatever name he had drawn must be horrible. The Czech was still getting used to this whole Secret Santa concept anyway, and he figured his best bet for success was to stick to the rules Dr. Weir had laid out.

Ronon practically laughed at Rodney. "If I'm not getting out of it, neither are you," the Satedan said.

Chuck turned Rodney down after hearing that Rodney had drawn Kavanaugh, in spite of his fellow Canadian's pleas and promises of some gift from Chuck's hometown. Lorne wasn't interested in getting stuck with Kavanaugh either.

"Besides, I've already started my gift." The major motioned to a canvas behind him that bore a few splashes of color."

"That's 'started?'" Rodney said.

Rather than argue with the scientist over art, Lorne practically pushed Rodney out the door, leaving the grumpy scientist to continue his wanderings.

Teyla was no more willing to stray from the rules of the exchange than Zelenka was, although she did provide Rodney with the most help he'd received all day.

"Perhaps Dr. Beckett would be willing to trade recipients," she suggested. "He enjoys giving for the sake of giving."

Rodney snapped his fingers, as if he had been the one to come up with the idea himself. "Yeah, Carson. That's a good idea. Why didn't I ask him first?" With that, he turned and dashed off toward the infirmary, leaving the bemused Athosian alone in the hall.

* * *

Life as an MD on Atlantis meant that there were few days off, and what days off there were, as the chief of medicine, Carson had to constantly remain on call. There were also physicals to be done year round, especially since the vast majority of the expedition's members needed more than a friendly nudge to the infirmary every six months. Carson was just finishing a physical with one of his more faithful patients; the chaplain of the expedition.

"Right, you're good to go for another six months, pastor," the Scotsman said, gesturing for his patient to sit up. "You're perfectly healthy, and the scar on your back seems tae be fadin' as well."

The patient in question gave the doctor the grin he had become known for in the city. "Thank you, doctor," he said in a heavily accented voice. "I suppose I should be getting back to prepare my message for Sunday."

"Aye, I'm sure you do," Carson said. "I really should make more of an effort tae get tae church on Sunday mornin's. I suppose I'm as guilty as anyone in lettin' life get in the way of things like tha'."

Pastor Masih smiled. "It is all too easy to get distracted, particularly when you have grown up in the comfort of a church that is never challenged by the world around it."

"But it's hardly an excuse, right?" Carson offered.

"Not at all," Masih agreed. He shook a finger at the doctor in mock sternness. "And you are a very bad boy who should go repent for four hours."

Carson chuckled at the man's teasing. Rafel Masih was one of the easier members of the expedition to get along with. In many ways he was a stereotypical pastor, with lengthy church services and a lot of passion. But he also had the ability to relate to just about anyone in the city in some way. He was friendly and very approachable, and could read people very well, making him a sort of backup psychiatrist whenever someone had a problem that Kate Heightmeyer couldn't address as easily as usual. In fact Heightmeyer respected the pastor as much as each of his most faithful church attendees. For a man in his forties, Masih seemed to have the wisdom and worldly experience of someone in his sixties. And he was sincere to a fault. Of course, part of that could have been the fact that he was not American-born. In Pakistan, he had never been obligated to hide his feelings or opinions on anything. And that, he told many, had gotten him into a lot of trouble as a young adult, newly converted from Islam to Christianity. Masih liked to say that people of Arab or Jewish ancestry were among the most expressive in the world, and Christians with Muslim backgrounds were the most enthusiastic people of all.

"It's hard to keep one's faith a secret in Pakistan," Masih would say. "We simply have to tell someone what Jesus did for us, and that can be very dangerous at times."

Carson started putting his supplies away while Pastor Masih changed back into his expedition uniform. Masih had just pulled on his jacket when McKay came rushing in.

"Hey, Carson!"

Carson straightened at the sound of his name, prepared for another one of Rodney McKay's "emergencies." "What is it, Rodney?"

"Carson, I need you to trade names with me."

The Scotsman shot his friend a genuinely confused look. "What?"

Rodney held up a hand when he realized what Carson thought he meant. "The Secret Santa Elizabeth organized? I drew a name that I can't keep. I have no desire whatsoever to get this person anything, except a one-way ticket home, which would probably make everyone in this city, him included, deliriously happy. But I doubt the SGC would go for that, and Caldwell wouldn't be too thrilled with me."

"Let me guess," Carson said. "You drew Kavanaugh."

"Who else?"

"Rodney, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Can't or won't?"

Carson gave Rodney a hard look. "Dr. Weir set up the rules of this exchange..."

"And she said that if I could find someone who was willing to trade, I could do so."

"Well I'm stickin' tae the original rules."

"Why? Who did you get?"

"I'm no' obligated tae tell you, Rodney. In fact, I'm no' really supposed tae say anythin' about who I've been assigned."

"Oh, come on, Carson," Rodney said, his voice rising nearly to a whine. "Just, help me out this one time. You're the only person on this base who can even stand to be around Kavanaugh for more than a minute."

"That's what you think," Carson said under his breath.

Rodney huffed. "Look, I'll make it up to you. I don't care if you drew Zelenka's name, just don't leave me stuck with Kavanaugh. I'd rather get a gift for a Wraith." He snapped his fingers. "Hey, maybe that's what I'll do. I'll gift-wrap Kavanaugh and give him to the Wraith!"

"Rodney!" Carson snapped, a bit stunned that Rodney would be cracking Wraith jokes, considering the fact that he was definitely far more terrified of them than the majority of the off-world teams.

"Well, he's worth about that much! And let me tell you, I would much rather be stuck on a wraith hive ship, about to get the life sucked out of me, than be stuck working with Kavanaugh."

"You should not speak about another member of the expedition that way, doctor," Masih said sternly, unable to keep quiet any longer. "You may see Kavanaugh as a personal enemy, but he is still human, with faults and failures just like you."

"No, not like me," Rodney countered. "I rarely make a mistake. Kavanaugh is the most incompetent—"

Masih cut him off. "You consider your attitude to be better than that of Kavanaugh? I have seen you both work, and your focus is on tearing others down to make yourselves look good. To be honest, Dr. McKay, you are worse about it than he is."

"Wha..." Rodney wore a look of shock and hurt. "Who the h*** do you think you are?"

"My name is Pastor Rafel Masih, and I am well-trained in the art of turning an enemy into a friend."

"Oh, yeah, right," Rodney huffed. "You know what, save it for Sunday, pastor." With that, the scientist turned on his heel and began to leave.

"Rodney," Carson said again.

"Walk away now, doctor, and you may never find out how to get back at Kavanaugh," Masih called.

Rodney stopped dead in his tracks. He turned and fixed the chaplain with a glare. "Wait a minute, you were just preaching at me about my attitude and that I should make a friend out of Kavanaugh, and now your talking about revenge? Whatever happened to that whole 'Vengeance is God's' thing?"

"Aye, what are you on about, pastor?" Carson said, equally confused.

Masih just smiled. "Let me tell you a story. Before I came to America, I was living the life of a faithful Muslim man in Pakistan. I had turned my back on my family as a teenager and changed my last name. I was tired of living as a second-class citizen. So I tried to be as loyal to Islam as I could. I prayed to Allah five times a day. I voiced my support for rioters who targeted Christians. I used the insult 'infidel' so many times you might think I sounded like that ventriloquist with the Muslim terrorist puppet. I used it against my own father. He died in sorrow over me. I have been told that his last breath was a prayer for me.

"And that prayer was eventually answered. I returned to Christ after I met a man who was to me as Dr. Kavanaugh is to you—a thorn in my flesh, a constant irritant. But unlike you, Kavanaugh, or myself at the time, he did not belittle people. He worked in a brick kiln, delivering bricks to the construction crew that was building near where I lived. I would ridicule him as I did any other infidels to the Muslim faith. But he would respond with a kind smile and bless me in the name of Jesus. I cursed him in the name of Allah. He told me once that while I prayed for myself five times a day to Allah, he prayed for me at least five times a day to the God of the Christians."

"Aren't they the same?" Rodney interrupted. "God and Allah?"

Masih shook his head. "No, they are not. The name Allah means 'god,' but Allah is not a god of love. The God whom the Jews and Christians worship—the one you can still hear Christians call Jehovah—is a God of love. This is something I learned from that man. His blessings were worse than any insults he could have given, because I was so bitter.

"One day the man was arrested. He had been accused of desecrating the Qu'ran. I saw who had done the actual desecrating, but I remained silent on the issue. I was there as he was dragged off to the prison. His family cried for him. I shouted with the crowd, calling for the death of the infidel. The man called out encouragement to his family. I got in his face and cursed him. But he looked at me and said, 'You are upset with me because I love God. But you must understand that I love Him because He loved me and forgave me my sins when He sent his Son for me. And He tells me to love my enemies; to forgive them and bless them as He does.'

"I became outraged and struck the man. I called him a blasphemer and said that I did not want his love. He went to prison, and I went home. But that night, God spoke to my heart. I began to see how that man's God was blessing me in response to his prayers. I resolved that night to follow Jesus. I changed my last name back to what it had been in my childhood.

"Soon I lost my job, and I was back to living as a low-class citizen. I was an infidel to Islam in the truest sense of the word. My conversion could have cost me my life.

"I went back to my family's home. They had never stopped praying for me, and they welcomed me back like a prodigal son returning home. I resolved to become a pastor. During my training, I was arrested and beaten numerous times, sometimes so badly that I had scars, but I always remembered the words of my Savior: 'Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who mistreat you.' And, 'Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' Remembering these words and applying them, I irritated my accusers as much as the man from the brick kiln had irritated me. I drew some pleasure from seeing their frustration at my refusal to curse them. And there was more than one man who came to know Christ as I had, because I loved my enemies. These men became my friends, and they saved my life more than once.

"I received several death threats. Finally my congregation became so fearful for my life that they urged me to take my family and go to America. Ministries that help the persecuted church paid for my way. I had no trouble finding work as a pastor, but I did not wish to stay in one place. America was too comfortable. A friend who was already in the Stargate program said that they were looking for a chaplain to go into an area that had never before heard the gospel. The rest, as they say, is history."

Rodney and Carson were leaning against one of the tables, and Rodney had been looking for a way to duck out throughout the story. The last thing he wanted to hear right now was a sermon. Especially one that did nothing to address his current problem.

"And how does this wonderful story have any bearing on my life or the situation at hand?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm on the word "wonderful."

"If you had been paying attention, you would have heard the obvious solution," Masih said with a grin.

"Well, I'm sorry if your story was so riveting that it was hard to pick out any one favorite part," Rodney snapped.

"Rodney," Carson muttered for the third time that hour.

"It is all very simple," Masih said, with more patience than Carson had known any man to have when dealing with Rodney. "There is a proverb that says, 'If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink; for you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you.'"

"Hmm, how wonderfully cryptic," Rodney quipped. "Got anything in lay terms?"

"It means, Dr. McKay," Masih said, "that the best way to get back at your enemy is to respond in a way that he is not expecting. Respond to his coldness with friendliness, his disdain with acceptance, his mistakes and his pride with grace, and his curses with blessings. He will not understand what it is you are doing, and it will drive him crazy. I should warn you though. If you do this and continue to do it, you just might lose an enemy. But you'll gain a friend." Masih had a mischievous twinkle in his eye that made Carson smile. The doctor turned and glanced expectantly at Rodney.

Rodney wasn't sure how to react. If he did this, it would undoubtedly be the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He'd rather cut his own arm off.

The scientist sighed. "I guess that's your way of saying that I'm not getting out of this gift exchange. But how much do you want to bet that Kavanaugh is just in it to get a gift, and then he'll conveniently forget to get a gift for the person he drew?"

Pastor Masih shook his head. "How does your enemy's personal decision have any forbearance on your quest for revenge?"

Carson was chuckling. The bait was on the hook and in the water, and the Scotsman could see that Rodney was being reeled in.

Rodney stroked his chin. "Huh. Well, I guess I'll have to think about that one. But I'm still going to try to find someone to trade with." With that, he got up and left the infirmary.

"I suppose we will have to wait and see if he goes through with the plan," Masih said.

"Aye," Carson nodded. "We'll find out on Christmas."

* * *

Christmas day brought the biggest city-wide party of the year, and even those who didn't normally celebrate the holiday couldn't stay away from the festivities. It was just after sunset when Elizabeth called for everyone's attention.

"It's time for the Secret Santa gift exchange. Everyone who's participating, please gather around."

Nearly everyone in the city crowded together, waiting for Elizabeth and her senior staff to start the exchange. Elizabeth called Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Carson and Chuck up to the front. On her signal, Sheppard picked up the first package and tossed it to Elizabeth.

"Mia Sanchez."

The Hispanic scientist waved her hand, and Elizabeth handed the present to Teyla to deliver to Sanchez.

Rodney gave Sheppard his trademark "are you kidding me" look. "Figures you'd start with her," he muttered, just loud enough for Sheppard to hear. The officer shrugged and bent to pick up the next package.

The exchange went into full swing, with Rodney, Teyla, Carson and Chuck barely having time to deliver one present before having to run back to grab another.

"Chuck Campbell...we'll put that one aside until you're done. Radek Zelenka. Katie Brown. Peter Kavanaugh. Ronon Dex. Teyla...put that one aside. Ooh, Dr. Weir...I think I'll just..."

"Elizabeth," Sheppard said in a warning tone. Elizabeth grinned and set the gift at her feet. "Ahem. Rafel Masih. Digory Kirke. Lindsey Biro. Peter Kavanaugh. Wait, didn't he already..."

Rodney waved her off. "We've got a lot of presents to get through. We can't afford anymore pauses. Moving on..."

Soon all the gifts from the Secret Santa had been given out. Other gifts between friends were exchanged as well. Sheppard's team chose a table in the cafeteria and began comparing their gifts, trying to figure out who their Secret Santa was. Radek, Elizabeth and Carson joined them.

"So, Rodney," Elizabeth said as she sat down. "Did you find someone to take Kavanaugh off your hands?"

Carson glanced expectantly at Rodney, who put his fork full of food down long enough to answer.

"Ah, yeah, I did. Actually I traded with...oh, here he comes now. Pastor Masih!"

Rodney waved the Pakistani over and invited him to sit down.

"Good evening, Dr. McKay, Dr. Weir. Merry Christmas to you all."

"Merry Christmas, pastor," Elizabeth said with a nod.

Carson gave Rodney a disappointed look. "You traded with Pastor Masih?"

"It's alright, Dr. Beckett," Masih said, putting a hand up. "Dr. McKay was better acquainted with the individual whose name I drew to begin with. I agreed to the trade." He exchanged a knowing glance with Rodney. It did not go unnoticed by the others at the table.

"Okay, Rodney, what's going on?" Sheppard asked.

"Hmm?" Rodney gave Sheppard his best innocent look. "Nothing. I have no clue what you're talking about."

Across the room Kavanaugh could be heard practically interrogating people over something.

"What's his problem?" Ronon asked.

"Yeah, he should be happy. He got one extra present in the exchange," Sheppard noted.

"Yes, I noticed that," Elizabeth said. Suddenly a thought popped into her mind. "Rodney, you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with..."

"Like I said, not a clue," Rodney said, throwing up his hands. But there was a slight smile on his face.

"Pastor, why would you give Kavanaugh an extra gift?" Zelenka asked.

"I gave him the single gift I was required to give by the rules of the exchange," Masih stated.

"Well, whoever gave him that second present, it's driving him nuts not knowing," Ronon observed.

The others at the table turned to watch the commotion across the cafeteria. Rodney found himself grinning triumphantly as Kavanaugh became increasingly agitated.

Soon the annoyed scientist noticed that all eyes in the room were on him, and he glanced around nervously. He noticed the smiles on the faces of the senior staff and walked over in a huff.

"OK, which one of you was it?"

"We have no idea what you're talking about," Sheppard said, now wearing the same grin as Rodney and Masih.

"Someone put my name in the Secret Santa twice, so I got two presents. Do you know what that looks like? I could be accused of cheating in this stupid exchange!"

"Well I'm quite certain that whoever this generous person is did not consider how it would make you look in the eyes of your fellow expedition members," Masih said.

"I'm pretty sure your name was only in the drawing once," Elizabeth said. "Someone must have decided that they were feeling extra generous, and extra shy."

Kavanaugh put his hands on the table and leaned down to get on eye level with Elizabeth. "Who gave me those gifts? Even if you don't know off the top of your head, you can make the givers reveal themselves."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Sorry, Dr. Kavanaugh, but you know that one of the rules of the Secret Santa exchange is that the givers are not obligated to reveal their identities to the recipients."

Kavnaugh grunted and straightened abruptly. "Well it was obviously someone who knows me. I actually would have liked both presents well enough if I just knew where they came from! Someone around here obviously has some kind of agenda. I want to know what it is."

"My friend," Masih said, "if the giver had some sort of agenda in giving you the extra gift, would he or she not have revealed him or herself to you and told you what that agenda was? Surely if there is a motive—something that this person desires of you—he or she would make it known in exchange for this gift."

Kavanaugh remained silent a moment, thinking about what Masih had said. Suddenly he noticed the amused smile on McKay's face.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Who me?" Rodney pointed at himself, then held up his hands again. "Nothing. I just...find it amusing that you're getting all worked up over something so...childish."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at Rodney, the corner of her mouth twitching upward just a little.

Kavanaugh scoffed. "Just wait. I'm gonna find this guy, this...extra Santa, and I'm gonna find out what he really wants. And when I do, I'll make sure he's never in good standing with Stargate Command again. The IOA won't take too kindly to the manipulation of scientists on this base."

Zelenka snorted and Rodney bit back the retort that was just begging to escape his lips. It was possibly the hardest thing he'd done the entire evening.

Kavanaugh started to walk away, but first turned to jab a finger at the group. "You may think this is funny, but just wait. No one is 'nice' to me unless they have an agenda, and they won't get away with it. No one can manipulate me. That includes you, McKay. I'll find this guy even if it takes me until next Christmas."

With that, Kavanaugh stormed off.

"Well," said Rodney, "I guess no good deed goes unpunished, eh?"

"Yes, it's ridiculous," Zelenka agreed. "'No one is nice to me and gets away with it.'" He ended his impression muttering in Czech.

The rest of the table let out the laughter they'd been holding in.

"Apparently Kavanaugh's 'second Santa' wished for nothing more than to give him a special holiday," Teyla said.

"I agree," Masih added. "And I applaud that person."

"Oh, I don't know," Carson said, glancing back and forth between the chaplain and the head scientist. "I think there migh' have been an added incentive after all. Perhaps the second giver wanted tae see Kavanaugh's predictable reaction."

Rodney ignored his friend and went back to stuffing his face.

Elizabeth gave Rodney a suspicious grin. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Rodney glanced up at her, mouth full. "Now, Elizabeth, you know that the rules of the exchange say that the giver is not required to reveal his or her identity to the recipient, or to anyone else for that matter."

Carson smiled broadly and exchanged a glance with Masih, who also wore a wide grin. The others at the table still looked confused, but genuinely entertained by the events of the evening.

"What are you up to, Rodney?" Zelenka asked, probably the most surprised and confused by the head scientist's alleged actions.

"Just heaping some burning coals, Radek," Rodney responded between bites. "Just heaping coals."

Masih nodded his approval.

* * *

**AN:** Some things to note. First of all, Pastor Masih's surname is quite common among Pakistani Christians, hence the reason I chose Pakistan as Masih's nationality. Christian converts from Islam sometimes change their last name to Masih as a declaration of their faith. The name Masih is a translation of the name Messiah, and obviously refers to Christ.

Second, Pastor Masih's story is a mixture of several true-life testimonies I have read and reread over the years. Masih's backstory is almost stereotypical of Muslim-background believers around the world (though not every one of them is originally born into a Christian family; in fact most are not). His words regarding God and Allah are not mine, but those of every Muslim-background Christian. (If you have a problem with that, take it up with the Christians in question.) You can only see part of Masih's personality in this story, but should I use the character in the future, his personality will be based on that of Richard Wurmbrand, a Jewish pastor who founded Voice of the Martyrs.

Finally, I have put a tribute to my favorite book series somewhere in this story. I'm leaving it to you readers to find it. It shouldn't be too difficult.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Hebrews 13:3.


End file.
